


A Tale Spun from Love and Void

by Toxin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotionally Hurt Derek Hale, Fairy Tale Retellings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Possessed Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Slash, Rumplestiltskin AU, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, This is a fairy tale after all, void!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 19:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12139653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toxin/pseuds/Toxin
Summary: When Kate Argent kills most of his family, Derek makes a deal with a Nogitsune in order to avenge their deaths. In exchange for killing his first love, however, the Nogitsune demands Derek’s next one as payment, whenever Derek falls again. Never believing he’d make the mistake of opening his heart to anyone else, Derek takes the deal.Fortunately, the only thing the Nogitsune likes more than pain is riddles, and when it finally comes for Stiles, it offers Derek a chance: if he can guess the Nogitsune’s name before the time runs out, Derek can keep the boy. The only problem is, Derek doesn’t even know Stiles’ actual name, and that soon becomes an issue in and of itself.Or,A Teen Wolf twist on  the Rumpelstiltskin tale, initially inspired by the fact that Stiles’ name is nearly impossible to guess in three tries. Written for the Sterek Writing Room's 'Fairy Tale September' prompt.





	A Tale Spun from Love and Void

**Author's Note:**

> .  
>  A huge thanks to Inkandblade (on tumblr) or LupusScintilla (on AO3) for her amazing beta skills and her endless patience when dealing with my whining and questions about basic dialogue conventions! :) Without her, this fic would probably be titleless, dialogue-consistancy-less and with a whole bunch of mistakes. In short, it probably wouldn't even be posted.
> 
> Also, thanks to the Sterek Chat #4 members who made me aware of this month's theme and whose enthusiasm was contagious! Additionally, they had to deal with my last minute crisis about titles and editing, and that deserves a shout out of its own :P
> 
> Now, the story:  
> .  
> 

There once was a boy.

Perhaps it’s a cliché of a start, I’ll allow, but that’s nonetheless where this story begins.

There once was a boy, and like in every story of the kind, he lived in the woods. He lived with his family, all remarkable people who were more talented than they were strong, more kind than they were talented, and even more unique than they were kind.

There once was a boy, and this boy was loved throughout town. He had friends, whom he spent time with; teammates, whom he played games with; teachers, whom he grew and improved with; and strangers, whom he helped whenever he had the chance.

There once was a boy, a seemingly perfect boy, and unknown to most, that boy had a secret.

Now, mind you, that secret started out small. At first, that secret had locks of blond hair and beautiful eyes. Then, it grew lips that cocked up into sharp, confident smiles that tasted like spices and wine and, when the hour was late and the room empty of prying eyes, it tasted like that metallic red that came from too much passion and bite. Later, it grew hands, with soft enough skin to entice the innocent and sharp enough nails to keep them in her grasp, and eventually, unknown to the boy back then, those hands stopped their pretense of tenderness and moved on to knives, and guns, and matches.

There once was a boy with a dark secret, and as he watched his family fall to ashes, he let it get darker still.

It wasn’t his fault, really. Once you’ve lain with the devil, the other monsters don’t seem all that frightening. And, well, even if they had, this boy had no reason to be afraid, for he had nothing left to lose. So, when a shadow darker than night came to him some time later, he wasn’t afraid for just that reason.

_ No _ , agreed the creature as it smiled down upon the boy.  _ You have nothing left to lose. But, you still have something left to give, and in exchange, something to gain. _

The boy didn’t quite understand the amplitude of the creature’s bargain, no more than he believed that it could provide what it was offering, but he had nothing left to lose by trying and the idea of vengeance tasted too sweet to pass. So, on that very night, the boy’s secret took the shape of a contract.

Soon, the contract took the shape of hounds that scratched at the windows of some specifically chosen hunters, of cries that resonated in the minds of all guilty souls, and of flames that, when said guilty hunters had finally reached the breeches of madness, licked their bodies and homes until all that remained was the smell of smoke and justice.

There once was a boy. A boy with a secret. But for the first time, his secret felt light, and as such, he never looked back to regret his deal with the creature. Over time, he even let himself forget about it. It wasn’t like it was worth thinking about, anyway, since he’d already gotten what he’d wanted, and he didn’t have to worry about what it was that he had promised in exchange.

For, in return for dealing with the boy’s first love, the Nogitsune asked for the boy’s next one, whenever the boy found it. And the boy had agreed, of course, because he knew that with what had happened to his family, he would never let himself love again.

There once was a boy, and this boy outsmarted a Nogitsune into providing revenge without having to give anything more of himself in return.

Or so he thought.

****

It took Derek a long time to notice.

In truth, it took everyone all too long to realize, each for distinct reasons. Scott was busy dealing with Allison and Kira, Isaac was busy focusing on Allison and Scott, Lydia was too busy getting distracted with every good-looking guy she could get her hands on to have more than a fleeting thought about any lone boy.

Derek, for his part, was too busy avoiding that same lone boy.

He hadn’t thought twice about it, either. Derek knew that Stiles couldn’t stand him, that he blamed Derek for the shit show that had become everyone’s life. To be fair, Derek blamed himself for most of it, too. Maybe that was part of why Derek had made a conscious effort to stay away from the boy: no matter how much he tried to help, Derek couldn’t seem to do more than cause harm and destruction to those close to him. If he could spare Stiles that, or even just the annoyance of having to deal with Derek, then, why shouldn’t he? Derek’s apparent lack of luck didn’t stop him from mentoring Scott or keeping updates on the others, though, but most days, he managed not to think too hard about why it was that he was more concerned about being a burden to Stiles than he was about the rest of the pack.

That said, the full reason for his avoidance was a bit more complicated. Being in Stiles’ presence might have been like taunting the fates with the already unlucky boy, but truthfully, no matter how annoyed or frustrated having Derek around could be for Stiles, it would never be as bad as what it was like for Derek. There was annoyance on his end too, of course, but more than that, being near Stiles was  _ painful _ .

Mind you, Derek never really cared for the pain, and most often, he welcomed it. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve his share anyway. However, even he couldn’t handle that level of agony. Even now, while looking at Stiles as he stood motionless across the room, Derek could feel the pressure building in his chest until it threatened to crush his ribs and bust his upper body open. He could feel the sparks landing on the skin of his neck, his arms, his back, constantly on the verge of setting his skin ablaze.

Just having Stiles near him was enough to force the air from his lungs every time. Derek didn’t know what that feeling was, and why it was set on destroying Derek from the inside out. Last time he’d checked, Stiles wasn’t a witch capable of cursing Derek into leaving him alone.

Derek didn’t know what the feeling was, but he knew he  _ hated _ it, or so he made himself believe. So, like every rational person, he tried as hard as he could to make it stop. If that meant staying away from Stiles, well, there wasn’t any problem in that as far as Derek was concerned.

In the end, Derek hadn’t seen the boy in a few weeks, which is why he hadn’t noticed.

The thought hit him then that if he hadn’t been avoiding Stiles, Derek would have noticed the change in his person sooner. After all, it only took one conversation with Stiles to notice the slightly higher tone he used as he made a particularly harsh comment about Derek, to see the corner of Stiles lips twist in a way it never had before, and to realize the amber shade of the boy’s eyes were suddenly the color of copper. A little darker, a little harder.

A little less life.

“Who are you?” Derek growled, claws extending as he crouched low. Stiles, or whatever it was that looked like Stiles, acted confused for a moment, before an uncomfortably wide smile took over his face. He bowed at Derek and laughed.

“ _ I’m only one color, but not one size. Stuck at the bottom, yet I easily fly. Present in sun, but not in rain. Doing no harm, and feeling no pain. What am I?” _ Stiles’ lips said.

“Answer me!” Derek roared. He’d never struggled with his control like he did right then, but he also had no intention of holding back. He pushed the thoughts about why that was out of his head.

Stiles shook his head loosely, and with an exaggerated pout, tutted at Derek.

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” Stiles asked, cocking his head to one side. His eyes glowed with humour though. “You weren’t this rude when I came offering Kate Argent’s head on a platter. What changed?”

It took a moment for Derek to understand. When he did, Derek felt his muscles lock and his skin ripple into goosebumps. He’d spent so much time thinking it was too good a story, too much like what he’d needed back then to get through his family’s death without losing himself, that over time he’s convinced himself that he’d dreamt the whole adventure up. Eventually, after his sister died and his uncle went rogue and his betas were created and then killed, he’d come to forget about his hallucinations altogether.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked eventually in place of answering.

“You don’t actually need me to answer that, do you?” Was the Nogitsune’s only answer.

Derek didn’t reply, but they both knew the truth anyway.

At least, it chased the idea that Derek could have noticed the change in Stiles and prevented it had he been less distant. Not that it elevated the sudden wave of guilt he could feel crushing over him. If anything, if he had spent more time with Stiles, he probably would have brought the Nogitsune onto the boy sooner.

In the end, though, it was all Derek’s fault either way.

It always was.

“I don’t love him,” Derek said.

“I wouldn’t be here if that were true.” The Nogitsune shrugged as though it was the simplest thing in the world. Maybe it was. Derek thought back on the shivers, the shallow breaths, the pure torture that was spending time with Stiles, and then he thought about what Kate did to his family.

If anything could cause that level of pain, it made sense for it to be Love. Even though Derek hadn’t realized what the feeling was, it was no wonder that he had run away from that experience with his tail between his legs.

It was no wonder that Stiles scared him shitless.

The Nogitsune cocked his head again when Derek retracted his claws and sank to his knees. Derek didn’t look away from the Nogitsune, but even if it hadn’t been looking the wolf in the eye as the red bled out, it would have been able to see the fight abandon the wolf.

“You won’t fight for this boy? Beg me to let him go?” it asked, seemingly curious, as if the Nogitsune was used to seeing those in his debt beg, or had at least hoped to see it now.

“Would it change anything?” Derek asked. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure that he was even capable of getting back up to keep on fighting. He didn’t think he had the strength to stand at all. There was just so many burning cities one could crawl and push their way through before they couldn’t continue any more.

He’d seen the Nogitsune work. Derek didn’t stand a chance. Stiles would die regardless, and Derek was the one who had signed his life away.

Still, Derek could feel the pinprick pain on his fingertips that hinted to claws when the Nogitsune taunted him about it. He couldn’t find the will to stand knowing it was futile, but being powerless once again pumped rage into his veins, feeding him with the same fuel of stubbornness and anger that had kept him from lying down and letting himself die after every disaster that he’d had to face.

“You had so much fight in you, once. So much strength and anger and power,” the Nogitsune sighed. “Where did it go?”

Derek met its gaze. The words were unplanned as they left his lips, but as he spoke them, Derek knew that he meant every single one.

“You’re wearing all the strength I have left in my life as your skin.”

Derek thought about Stiles’ selfless courage, his recklessness, his deadly tongue. He thought about his vicious streak, his steady gaze, his legs pumping water for hours to keep two people from sinking to their death. Stiles might have been human and Derek a werewolf, and he might not have had to fight his way through tragedy after tragedy on the same scale as Derek had had to, but Stiles was so strong and so brave, and when Stiles would die, Derek knew that he’d be taking any will Derek still had to live with him.

It was a shame, really, that Derek was only realizing that now.

The Nogitsune hummed at that.

“In any case, you’re right in that there isn’t anything you can do,” it said. “Contracts are unbreakable, after all.”

Yet, when the Nogitsune moved a step backward, Derek did beg.

“But they can be adapted.” Derek’s voice echoed throughout the loft. Silence rang, and neither moved. “Clauses can be added, or better deals can be drafted.”

The look of curiosity was back on Stiles’ face.

For a moment, Derek let himself hope. He remembered all the times he had begged to anyone listening to let him take his family’s place, to no avail. He hadn’t automatically begged to take Stiles’ place because it had never worked before. Why would it now? Seeing the Nogitsune consider it, though, he let himself hope that he had been denied in the past so that he could do something good now.

If the Nogitsune allowed it, Derek would take Stiles’ place in a heartbeat.

“But you have nothing else in your life to offer,” the Nogitsune said, crushing Derek in the doing.

“I have me. Take me,” Derek pressed desperately. The Nogitsune chuckled.

“That wouldn’t be a price to you, would it?” the Nogitsune asked. Derek remembered that the Nogitsune had a tendency for condescending questions when he was younger, and the habit clearly wasn’t gone. “I’d be offering you a gift. And as you know, I’ve already given.”

“Please.” The word was ripped out of Derek.

“I strive on chaos, Derek. You know that,” the Nogitsune said. “Not on pleasing people.” Still, instead of walking away, the creature crept closer.

It circled Derek slowly, and Derek considered striking and taking it down, but he knew better than to think that it would hurt anyone but Stiles.

“Did you know that you’ve always been one of my favorites?” the Nogitsune asked. So many questions. Derek gritted his teeth to avoid having to humor the creature with an answer, because yes, Derek had always had the impression that the Nogitsune took a liking to Derek. “Guess why?”

Derek didn’t answer.

“Don’t be like that. You know I love riddles.” The Nogitsune clapped Stiles’ hands. “Don’t you want me on your side?” 

Of course, Derek did.

“Because you like chaos and destruction, and I’m cursed with both,” Derek answered honestly. 

The Nogitsune laughed.

“Exactly! And not only do they follow you like the plague,” the Nogitsune pressed a hand to Derek’s hair fondly, and Derek resisted the urge to flinch. “But chaos bubbles in your very being, Derek. I’ve never seen so much sadness and anger and so many self-destructive tendencies in a single soul.”

Slowly, as though deep in thought, the Nogitsune walked towards the loft’s door.

“I like you Derek,” it repeated. “So, I’ll give you a chance.”

Derek’s head snapped up.

“Well, mostly because I like you. There’s also the issue that if I break you completely, I’ll be losing my favorite source of despair.” It shrugged unapologetically. “I still might, mind you. In fact, I probably will. But I’m amiable to the idea that you might figure out a way to make us both happy.”

“What can I do?” Derek asked quickly, terrified the creature might change its mind.

“So eager.” The Nogitsune smirked, tapping familiar fingers to Stiles’ lips. “Tell me Derek, what do I like nearly as much as chaos?”

It took a few moments for Derek to figure it out.

“Questions. Riddles,” he finally said. The Nogitsune clapped again.

“Very good!” it praised. “You’re very good at this. That’ll be useful to you. Here’s what we’ll do: I’ll give you a riddle. If you solve it, I’ll spare your boy. If you fail, well. You’ll have had a shot, which is more than you were supposed to have in the first place.”

Derek instantly knew what game the Nogitsune was playing. It wasn’t enough that Derek would be grieving over Stiles and blaming himself for his disappearance. No matter how much Derek was to blame for the Nogitsune, he knew that on some level, he couldn’t help how he felt, and  he didn’t have control over his emotions. He could do something about the riddle though, and when he’d fail to solve it, it would break him twice as much.

The Nogitsune fed off Derek’s misery. Taking Stiles away, then giving Derek  _ hope,  _ then ripping Stiles away again for good, would finish Derek past the point of no return.

Hope was more deadly than quick destruction, after all.

When Derek didn’t answer immediately, the Nogitsune betrayed himself by insisting.

“Tell you what,” it added. “I’ll give you three tries to answer the riddle. One a day. That gives you three days to find the answer. Doesn’t it sound fair?”

It didn’t.

“Deal,” Derek said because the Nogitsune knew what it was doing, and even though he knew he would fail, Derek couldn’t not try.

The Nogitsune smiled. Suddenly, it waved a hand and something snapped in Derek’s chest that left his mouth tasting like ink and shackles.

The deal was made.

“My dearest Derek,” the Nogitsune said. “ _ Shakespeare questioned the sense of a name, this thing that brings both fame and shame. Yours is on our contract’s bottom line, but can you tell me: what name is mine? _ ”

Derek frowned, not understanding. He knew it couldn’t be that easy. Yet, he couldn’t figure out the catch.

“What will your first try be?” The Nogitsune pressed.

“Nogitsune,” Derek said somewhat hesitantly. The creature had never told him, but Derek had looked into it immediately after their first meeting. He’d already reached the point where he was mostly convinced it had all been a dream, but even then, he’d been stubbornly set on figuring out what the creature was. That, and he’d needed the distraction from his misery.

It had taken him months to find something fitting, but eventually, the creature’s love for riddles had given it away.

The Nogitsune’s eyebrows raised and he smiled eerily gently at Derek.

“I see you’ve done your research,” the Nogitsune said approvingly, though Derek could swear he heard an undertone of annoyance in his tone. “Unfortunately, that is but the name of my kind. I’m not Nogitsune, not unless your name is Werewolf.”

He crept towards the door.

“Wait!” Derek tried to run after it but he still couldn’t get on his feet and instead crawled forward miserably. “Wait!”

“Don’t fret, boy,” the Nogitsune said, not looking back. “You’ll have another chance tomorrow. Same time. Until then…”

It threw a last smirk over its shoulder before it stepped forward and, instead of leaving through the door like Derek expected, stepped into the shadow beside it and disappeared, taking Stiles’ body with him.

A sob left Derek. If Nogitsune was the name of a species, then how would he ever figure out this specific one’s name?

****

It was nearing midnight, same as the previous night, and Derek still hadn’t figured out the Nogitsune’s name.

He’d texted the pack telling them the basics of what had happened, that a Nogitsune had taken possession of Stiles and the only way to free Stiles was to figure out the creature’s name. He’d shut off the phone’s ringtone though and essentially ignored the phone calls that came in, instead throwing himself into the books about the supernatural that had been protected by the family’s crypt. He locked himself in the loft again, not willing to test whether the Nogitsune would find him wherever he was, and refused to tell the pack where he was.

He’d expected a few of them to come knocking anyway, demanding answers. Instead, he found out later that Lydia had ordered everyone to research, and soon he started receiving text after text with tidbits of information about the Nogitsune. It was a bit distracting, but he fell into a pattern of going through the new texts between each book he combed through.

Lydia had been the most useful. Still, it was nearly time and neither of them were closer to figuring out the creature’s name.

Lydia was a good researcher, good enough that Derek thought she probably knew by now exactly why Derek was so invested in defeating the Nogitsune, and what that meant about the reason why Stiles’ life was at play.

That said, she wasn’t Stiles. They could have used Stiles’ research skills right then.

Suddenly, two things happened simultaneously. First, the light bulb flickered and shut off completely as a chuckle fluttered from somewhere near the loft’s entrance. Shadows started taking over every corner of the room.

Second, Derek’s gaze, which he’d stubbornly kept on the book in some desperate attempt to find something, anything, stumbled over a passage.

_ The Nogitsune is not a person in and of itself. It is chaos, a state without structure nor form, as its nature suggests. It is not a being, but rather a reflection of emotions and situations bottled up in a bodiless entity. _

A figure was stepping out of one of shadows.

_ It is thus not an individual, but a grotesque assemblage barely held together. Therefore, while it is careless to understand it as something less than the destructive force that it is, it is often useful to remember that its identity is limited to that of the individual that it haunts. _

Derek felt bile rise in his throat as he slowly looked up at Stiles’ face, twisted into the expression the Nogitsune wanted it to wear. Stiles’ face. The Nogitsune’s face. The line was blurred between both in Derek’s mind, and Derek hated himself for it.

“Hello Derek,” Stiles’ body greeted him, only like before it spoke in a voice that was only slightly too high. “We meet again.”

Derek couldn’t answer though, the book’s words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t be sure that he understood the passage as the author had intended it to be read, or that there wasn’t an issue of translation that changed its original meaning, or that the author even knew what he was talking about in the first place.

What it seemed to say, though, was that the Nogitsune had no identity, and took on the identity of the person whose body it wore. Which would make sense, perhaps, but also—

—Also, Derek would never be able to look into the Nogitsune’s eyes as he said that Stiles and it were the same. The thought alone had him gagging soundlessly.

The Nogitsune considered him for a second, but ultimately it just shrugged.

“Fine, then. We can skip the niceties.” The Nogitsune grinned. “Tell me, Derek:  _ Shakespeare questioned the sense of a name, this thing that brings both fame and shame. Yours is on our contract’s bottom line, but can you tell me: what name is mine? _ ”

Derek swallowed down his anger.

“Stiles. Stilinski.” Derek forced the words out, and barely managed to spit the last syllable.

There was a moment of silence, in which all Derek and the Nogitsune did was look at each other. The Nogitsune’s face was unreadable as it looked at Derek, and Derek dug his claws into his palms as he waited. Finally, because Derek had been looking closely, he saw the Nogitsune’s eyes flicker to the book, jaw tight and nostrils flaring.

Just as quickly, though, its eyes were back on Derek and he was smiling again.

“Nope.” The Nogitsune popped the ‘p’ in a manner that reminded Derek painfully of Stiles, and with that it backed towards the loft door.

“What?” Derek scrambled to his feet from where he’d been sitting cross-legged in the middle of a pile of books. “How is that not your name?”

“You have one last try,” The creature said instead of replying, though Derek had never really expected it to give him any hints that might help. Still, Derek rushed towards the Nogitsune as it started crawling into the shadows.

“That’s his name!” Derek pleaded, not sure if he was trying to prove that it was the Nogitsune’s name or, instead, that it was solely Stiles’. “Wait—” 

But the Nogitsune disappeared.

Derek, on the other hand, was frozen in the living room as he realized his mistake. Stiles wasn’t the Nogitsune’s name, because it wasn’t even Stiles’ name. It was just a stupid nickname. Suddenly, the riddle the Nogitsune chose made sense. What better question to ask Derek after all?

Of all the times Derek had fucked up, this had to take the cake. He claimed to love Stiles, or at least the Nogitsune seemed to think he did, yet it took Stiles getting possessed by a chaos demon for Derek to realize that  _ he didn’t even know what Stiles’ name was. _

Derek did throw up, then.

****

On Derek’s right, Lydia stood motionless, and for a second she had Derek fooled into think she wasn’t afraid. On his other side stood Scott, visibly seething so much that he was shaking. Finally, just behind Scott stood the Sheriff, tall and proud and, though the skin beneath his eyes was wet, with his chin held high.

They hadn’t been able to stop him from coming. They hadn’t really tried.

After the Nogitsune’s departure the night before, Derek had called Scott, asking him what Stiles’ name was as Derek rushed towards Lydia’s house. Scott hadn’t known Stiles’ full name, just knew that Scott and everyone else Stiles knew used to call Stiles ‘Mischief’ before Stiles settled on his current nickname. With a growl, Derek had hung up.

Scott didn’t show up at Lydia’s house much later than Derek did. While Lydia proved herself more useful in the brief time before dawn broke out over the town, Scott really did try to help. Derek was still annoyed that Scott didn’t know his best friend’s name, but even he could give Scott credit for the way he picked up a phone book at such a ridiculous hour and systematically called every remote acquaintance of Stiles, be it teachers or students or the parents of students who might possible know it. Most hung up on him. Some remembered the first letter, or a syllable at most.

No one could recall the way it went.

Throughout, Derek had alternated between reaching out to the rest of the pack in hope that one of them would have an idea, looking over Lydia’s shoulder as she agreed with his interpretation of the passage and went through an old box that had been in her attic, and trying – and failing – to reach the Sheriff who was off at a conference across the state.

Finally, Lydia found a yearbook from kindergarten, which must have dated back to before Stiles changed nicknames because there, on the page, under the picture of a grinning boy, was the name  _ Mieczyslaw Stilinski _ . The rest of their yearbooks seemed to respect Stiles’ preference or, on two occasions, simply refer to him as  _ M. Stilinski _ .

Derek was left with the issue that he had no idea how to pronounce it, though.

Most of the morning was spent listening to gritty recordings of people sounding out the name online, but they’d come across two pronunciations and suddenly Derek was terrified that if he mispronounced it, the Nogitsune would refuse his answer. He wouldn’t put it past the creature.

The only thing that put an end to that was when the Sheriff got back to them in the early afternoon, demanding to know what was wrong. The man wasn’t stupid; he might not have been there to see Stiles’ change in personality because of the conference, and he might have been kept out of the loop the day before, but a dozen missed calls in a few hours let him know something was wrong.

They told him, and the Sheriff was back in Beacon Hills before dusk.

After that, it was a matter of the Sheriff correcting Derek’s pronunciation while all four of them camped in Derek’s loft, waiting for the Nogitsune to arrive.

And now, it had.

“You brought friends?” the Nogitsune asked, feigning disinterest, but Derek could see a glint in its eyes as his he looked over all the people it was about to hurt beyond repair. Derek shrunk on himself, hating himself for all the pain he was going to cause to yet more of his pack.

He startled when a hand landed on his shoulder, and looked to see the Sheriff squeeze it reassuringly. It shocked the guilt out of his system for only a second, but before it could slam back, Lydia grabbed his hand.

Derek pressed his eyes close, trying to breathe.

“Just ask me the question,” Derek said, his voice shaking. _Mieczyslaw._ _Mieczyslaw. Mieczyslaw._

“Patience is a virtue, Derek,” the Nogitsune said, which Derek found hypocritical considering that it was almost vibrating with excitement at the idea of winning the game of brains he had going on with Derek.

Something was wrong.

“ _ Shakespeare questioned the sense of a name, this thing that brings both fame and shame. Yours is on our contract’s bottom line, but can you tell me: which name is mine?” _

Derek opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Something was wrong.

The Nogitsune had seen him read the book in which the answer was found the day before. If the answer had been in it, the Nogitsune would look worried now, or angry. In the best-case scenario, it would look impassable. Now, though, it just looked gleeful.

On the other hand, Derek remembered vividly the anger on the Nogitsune’s face when he’d said Stiles name the night before, making the creature notice the book. Clearly that had to be a sign, right?

Maybe it had been fooling Derek. Most of the books he’d read in the last two days had described it as a trickster spirit, after all. Or, perhaps it was tricking him now.

Derek had no idea what to do.

“Derek? What are you waiting for?” Scott hissed, but Lydia shushed him. From the corner of his eye, Derek could see her looking at him attentively, and he wondered, not for the first time, if Lydia could read minds.

The Nogitsune was still waiting with a smile, and Derek clenched his fists.

“Son,” the Sheriff whispered, hand still gripping Derek’s shoulder. “Whatever happens, whatever you think you need to say or do, whether it works or not, I trust you, and I trust that you’ll have done what you think was best to save my child.”

Until that point, the Nogitsune’s behaviour was just an oddity that tugged at something at the back of his mind, but Derek had been set on repressing it to do and say what the pack had a agreed on. Now, with the Sheriff’s permission to go off plan, Derek let himself think.

He thought back on the passage in the book.

_ The Nogitsune is not a person in and of itself. It is chaos, a state without structure nor form, as its nature suggests. It is not a being, but rather a reflection of emotions and situations bottled up in a bodiless entity. _

_ It is thus not an individual, but a grotesque assemblage barely held together. Therefore, while it is careless to understand it as something less than the destructive force that it is, it is often useful to remember that its identity is limited to that of the individual that it haunts. _

“Derek? Your last answer?” 

Derek was shocked into looking up from the floor where his eyes had been drawn to as he’d thought back. The Nogitsune’s voice was cold and deprived of the humour it had been vibrant with moments ago. As far as Derek knew, the Nogitsune couldn’t read his mind, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, it was a sign that Derek was on the right track.

He focused on the passage, where two bits suddenly stuck out to him.

_ It is not a being, but rather a reflection of emotions,  _ Derek repeated in his mind’s eye, trying to figure out what about it bothered him. The word ‘reflection’ made him think of mirrors, which looking at Stiles twisted face supported his first theory. However…

The Nogitsune was not a reflection of Stiles at all, either. He had Stiles’ body, but what differentiated him from Stiles was that he wasn’t the same in emotion and personality. So if not Stiles, whose emotions was he a reflection of?

“Derek?” the Nogitsune hissed. Derek ignored him.

Instead, Derek remembered how the Nogitsune said that he fed off on Derek’s misery. The Nogitsune had killed Kate because Derek had wanted it to, had taken Stiles’ body because Derek himself craved the boy, was the powerful chaos monster that it was because Derek was built of anger and despair and chaos himself.

_ Its identity is limited to that of the individual that it haunts.  _ The Nogitsune never haunted Stiles. It only knew of him through Derek, and had no real interest in him. The Nogitsune  _ possessed  _ Stiles to get to Derek, because it had been waiting and tracking Derek for years.

The Nogitsune had possessed Stiles, but had been in Derek’s life, haunting Derek, taking pleasure in tormenting him, for much longer.

“DEREK!” the Nogitsune’s voice no longer sounded human.

The Nogitsune’s darkness, essentially its whole being, stemmed from Derek’s.

The Nogitsune was him.

“Derek Hale.” Derek’s voice was rough, and he didn’t dare look beside him to see the reactions of his pack members. Thanks to that, though, he saw Stiles’ eyes flicker to black, and Derek grew bolder. “Marking a distinction between my name and yours in your riddle was a smart move, but not smart enough. You are what you are because of who I am. Derek Hale.”

He still had no idea if he was right, but he felt, somehow, that he had figured it out.

It looked like the Nogitsune agreed.

Suddenly, a scream so loud it knocked everyone backward erupted from the Nogitsune’s mouth. Its neck snap backward, cry still pouring from its lips with so much force it cracked the windows and broke the dishware that was resting on the loft’s furniture. Derek pressed his hands to his ears, trying to block out the noise, and spared a thought to the other pack members lying about.

He didn’t know if he should struggle to help them, or try to move towards the body standing in the middle of the room.

In the end, it didn’t matter. In a matter of seconds, the sound cut off and the body crumpled to the floor, seemingly lifeless.

Stiles.

****

Derek bit back a groan and rolled his eyes. He wanted to ignore the knocking, but if the last few days had taught him anything, it was that Stiles wasn’t going to stop until morning. Or, alternatively, until he had proof that Derek had jumped out the window and run off.

“Derek! Just open the fucking door you stupid, synthetic plushie!” Stiles called out, and Derek snorted before he could stop himself. “I heard that! I know you're in there, you can’t avoid me forever.”

And, well, they’d see about that.

The knocking kept on for another hour, and all the while, Derek kept his forehead against the door, feeling the vibrations come over him as he smelled the faint scent of Stiles standing on the other side. It smelled like teenagers, and Adderall, and lemons for some reason that Derek never understood.

Stiles smelled pure. He smelled like Stiles, and nothing else.

The knocking finally stopped.

“Derek,” Stiles said, voice softer. Derek braced himself, knowing that voice indicated that feelings were going to come out to play. “Derek, you did this, avoided me, before this whole mess happened, and I thought that meant you hated me. I tried to hide it and pretend it was all good, but it killed me a little inside.”

Derek sighed.

“And then all this happened,” Stiles continued, “And I found out that you avoided me because you loved me, for some fucked up rea—” Stiles cut himself off with a sigh, and Derek closed his eyes. “And now here you are, avoiding me maybe because you love me still, or maybe because you feel bad, but in both cases because you care,” Stiles said.

Then, with a start, Derek’s eyes opened as he recognizes the sound of a sob coming from the other side.

“But it doesn’t even matter because whether you like me or you hate me, I still don’t get to have you near me!” Stiles exclaimed. “I’m just as alone and sad and lonely as I was when I thought you hated me!” Without his say so, Derek’s hand drifted to the door’s handle. “I was in there, you know? And I thought I was going to die? But I didn’t because you pulled out all the stops so that I wouldn’t be taken away from you. So why are you doing it to me now? Why do you think watching you leave my life is going to make me feel any less shitty than me leaving yours?”

Derek wanted to point out that he wasn’t going to die, but he held back. His gaze drifted towards where his suitcase was sitting, and somehow, he knew that Stiles could tell that it was there.

“Derek. I know you think you bring the worst of life onto other people. But from the moment you forced your help onto Scott, gave your betas their first taste of happiness, defended this town—” Stiles sobbed again. “You helped everyone I know. You helped me too, if only so that I could feel like I belonged somewhere. You think you bring misery into everyone’s life, but my life was already a mess when you showed up,  _ and you are the best thing that happened to it since _ .”

Derek opened the door.

“I’m not good for you,” Derek started, then pressed his hand to Stiles’ mouth when he opened it to protest. “There’s a reason why the Nogitsune was made from me. Was me.”

He waited until Stiles stopped trying to tear his mouth away and speak before he let him go. By then, Stiles had grown somber.

“Can I talk now?” Stiles asked sarcastically, and Derek couldn’t help the small smile that accompanied the nod. “The Nogitsune wasn’t you—”

“It was,” Derek pressed.

“Fine!” Stiles threw his hands up. “The Nogitsune was you, but  _ you are not the Nogitsune. _ ” Stiles said, and Derek blinked. “The entirety of the Nogitsune was made of you, your turmoil and dark side, but the difference between you and the Nogitsune is that you have another side too. A good side. And that side  _ annihilates _ the darkness life has forced onto you again and again. You are more than what the Nogitsune was.”

“But I’m still not only good,” Derek insisted. He couldn’t hide from himself that he had to force down the Stiles-specific pressure in his chest to speak.

“No one is,” Stiles said rather harshly before he took a breath and calmed down. “Scott is a self-righteous guy who’s driven by lust seventy-five percent of the time. Lydia’s prideful. My dad leans on alcohol to handle emotions and will eventually kill himself with his diet. You’re an angry, scarred man. Well guess what? I’m a lying, mean brat and according to the Bible, all of us would end up in Hell anyway.” 

Derek couldn’t help but laugh, yet the sound came out disturbingly airy.

Stiles put his hand on Derek’s forearm. Derek felt his skin get set on fire, the flames spreading across his entire body.

He didn’t pull away.

“But the thing is,” Stiles said softly, “While we all have our darknesses, I’ve never seen someone fight so hard to make things right, make others feel better, to make  _ good,  _ than you do on a daily basis. Derek, you’re incredible, and I’m pretty sure  _ I  _ don’t deserve  _ you.” _

Derek shook his head, unable to find his voice. He couldn’t catch his breath.

“But,” Stiles continued, seeing Derek cave in piece by piece. “I want to be. And the best way I can do that is to be by your side and help you shoulder the world. If you’ll let me.”

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice was rough and barely audible. “I can’t let you do that. I can’t let you waste that on me.”

He didn’t know how else to say it. He meant it though, with every fiber of his being. Stiles didn’t understand that Derek had nothing but anger to offer. The Nogitsune had known that, and Stiles should too.

“Derek,” Stiles’ eyes were wide and wet, watching Derek slip away for good. “You say you can’t be with me, even just as friends, because you’re made of misery. But the only way to change that, to make yourself worthy in  _ your  _ eyes,” he stressed the ‘your’. “Is to let yourself replace that misery with happiness. We could do that. If you let yourself have what you want, then by default you’ll stop being the martyr that runs on sadness that you hate so much, and eventually, you’ll become the man you wish you were. A happy man.”

Derek couldn’t do this.

Derek wanted to do this.

Derek’s fear was slowly getting crushed by the pressure in his chest and set aflame by the fire on his skin.

“I’m never going to ask you for something you can’t give. We can be friends, if that’s what you need. But please don’t run away. Derek, please let me in,” Stiles begged.

Derek couldn’t breathe. So instead, he pushed the loft’s door open further.

“I don’t want us to be friends,” he confessed as he moved aside. Stiles grinned his own smile, not the Nogitsune’s, and stepped forward.

“Then let’s go after what we both want, together, however slow or difficult the journey might be.” Stiles nodded with finality and wiped his eyes, and Derek smiled a bit wider.

He watched Stiles as he walked into the loft, and fought the urge to run away. If it didn’t work out, he told himself, he could always run at a later date. He had a feeling he would never need to, though.

He looked at Stiles as the boy glanced back at him from his stance in front of the windows, bright light shining behind him, and noted like he had many times before that Stiles still took his breath away. For the first time, though, Derek didn’t try to convince himself that it was anything but a good thing.

Derek knew that it wasn’t quite a happily ever after yet, but in that moment, it felt like something even better.

Who wants an ending anyway, when they can have a beginning?


End file.
